


He is the One

by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee), recklesslee



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, M/M, POV Sander Driesen, he is the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26990392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recklesslee/pseuds/iwritetropesnottragedies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/recklesslee/pseuds/recklesslee
Summary: Sander always had a flare for theatrics. He's always had a quiet belief that the world would bring him the one when he needed them most.Robbe came into Sander's life unexpectedly, but even then Sander could tell immediately that: he is the one.OrA series of oneshots that showcase Sander's take on his experiences with Robbe.Chapter 2: Sander makes his way to the skatepark by his university for a photography session.Just for a photography session.Not at all in the hopes he will see a certain someone again.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60





	1. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sander goes to graffiti the trucks for a night to himself.
> 
> He finds salvation.
> 
> He finds the one.

Sander had had to argue his way to going to the trucks that night. He wouldn’t have told his parents of course, but Britt was relentless with her questions and often inspired his parents to react in similar ways. Just a stroll, he had told them and they settled, happy to let their son have an inkling of mobility after the last few months had seen a marked stillness within him. He knew they liked it, that he settled, that he seemed calmer, but even they must have realized that something was missing in Sander’s life. He needed the adventure.

Britt had not let him off so easily. Question after question flowing easily, without a pause to consider he might have an answer. **_Where are you really going? Who will you be with? Are you going to do anything stupid?_**

_To the trucks to do some graffiti. With a group of likeminded individuals, but don’t worry Noor is supposed to show up so she can watch over me. God, I hope so._

**_Are you getting bad again?_ **

_Please don’t think every decision I make is because of that. I’m getting back to my normal again. I am normal._

So, she let him go. She didn’t want to seem too overbearing, after all she wasn’t his mother. Just a concerned girlfriend. Sander should feel comfort at that sentiment. All he was beginning to feel was suffocated. Six months and Britt ruled over Sander’s life like a queen in her court. He had found it comforting at first, her strength and decision making, he hadn’t realized it might stifle any he had in himself.

But he wouldn’t leave her. Britt was loved by his parents, savior of all things Sander. And if he was honest with himself, loneliness was far scarier than the idea of losing control. He had done that too many times to count.

Now Sander sat alone in a warehouse. Where the shadows grew under trucks and scaffolding, Sander saw hints of what he could be. _Nothing._ He breathed in deeply and rose to join his fellow trespassers.

The night was young, and there was damage to be done.

++

It was a serene night, though Sander supposed it might not have been elsewhere in the city of Antwerp.

The moon shone down on him, providing a soft white light to contrast the harsh orange glow of the streetlights around him. The contrast inspired him, as he sprayed one truck, thick lines and jagged bends in a mixture even he couldn’t explain. It looked horrible, angry and dripping, but it made Sander feel better for a moment. He always searched for better, but it was fleeting.

Sander stepped back from his work. He let the can in his hand drop next to him and took in the warring image, a cluster of feelings tangled about and hard to make out.

He was done tonight.

There was nothing pretty inside him at the moment. He felt mixed up and frustrated, and Sander knew he couldn’t explain exactly why. So, he wouldn’t paint tonight. Not anything more. Sander would watch the others around him and their work, as he tried to find inspiration in something that didn’t make him hurt.

He pulled out his camera from his bag on the floor, replacing it with his spray can. Whether he felt like painting or not, Sander would need to show Britt something from the night to appease her. He took a shot of his orange and white monstrosity. Britt never cared to ask questions about his art, so she wouldn’t see or understand the anguish within it. Then he turned to capture the work of the others with him.

It was as he captured shot after shot of the art around him, that he was captured himself by a piece of art before him.

Sander had told Britt that Noor might show up tonight, but he hadn’t really expected her to. Britt had said Noor was going to a party held by some girl at her school. Britt herself had been getting ready to go when Sander had made the announcement of his plans. She had wanted to bring him to the party, but the idea of crowds, drugs, and alcohol had been an easy excuse for Sander’s absence. This time, anyways.

The party must not have been great, or perhaps it had been too good, because Noor had entered the warehouse late at night with a companion in tow.

Sander had raised his camera once more to his eye to capture a photo before he could even comprehend his first thoughts.

_He is the one._

Sander’s eyes did not leave the man that stood with Noor, her hand in his as they climbed metal stairs to an available truck. The side of his face available for a short moment as Noor pulled down his mask to kiss his lips. The man didn’t look to Sander, not once, but Sander’s lens did not look away.

He took picture after picture of the man before him. Some sort of golden muse in the white light of the moon. He shone. Sander was helpless to do anything but appreciate it.

And appreciate it he did. Brown curls, tickling at smooth pale skin, falling just over the white of the mask that covered his face. Small stature, shoulders rounded and soft, pose unsure in a room full of artists committing crimes. His clothes were too big for him, the jacket on his shoulders big enough for Sander to wear comfortably.

Sander could not help but think of how he would look swallowed within Sander’s clothes. How he would look smaller, softer still. It seemed impossible to keep the image away, and Sander ached to make it true. He wanted to see this beauty under the moonlight and in his bed. He wanted to see those curls on his pillow. He wanted to get a closer glimpse of those eyes, brown and a little sad, the nose and lips that were hidden under the mask but were no doubt as beautiful as everything else about the man.

Sander took photo after photo. His heart felt full for the first time. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so excited at the sight of someone. At what they could mean for him. He shot from every angle he dared, getting closer when he could before scurrying off lest he was recognized by Noor. It wasn’t long before he ran out of space on his camera.

It was late.

The man was with Noor. Eyes only on her and her hand in his. Sander had heard him laugh, and it was beautiful. It was music. It was like listening to Bowie for the first time. But it wasn’t for Sander. Not yet. Right now, it was for Noor. But Sander could see what Noor couldn’t in the moonlight. Sander could see tight shoulders and sad eyes. He could see reluctance to take hold if her hand and an eagerness to let go. Sander could see the frown that grew on soft lips once a kiss was completed, could see the fake smile fall from his face.

The man was with Noor, but he wasn’t hers.

It was late.

Sander gathered his things. He looked one last time at the man that had changed his life that night. _The one._ Sander could be patient when it was needed. The man wasn’t Noor’s. Sander could tell that the man wasn’t even his own, not yet, not really. Sander was prepared to wait a lifetime if it meant that the man would be his.

For the first time that night, the man looked back. His eyes were brown, beautiful, but they did not see Sander. His eyes were searching, looking for something in the orange glow of the factory lights. They stopped at Sander, and for a moment his eyes softened, but they moved on quickly. They did not look back.

Sander went home.

++

Later, when Sander was alone in his room, he would turn on his camera and browse his photos. He always returned to the same ones. The man. The muse. An angel come down to earth to inspire Sander after what felt like years of being lost.

The man glowed orange in the photos, matching his oversized jacket, but there was always the hint of the white moonlight on his skin. Sometimes, Sander would think of it in his bed or in the shower. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his blond hair mussed, and his cheeks flushed red. Always that warm rich orange accompanied by just a hint of white. It felt like the universe was trying to tell Sander something.

Whenever Sander looked to the photos, he felt warm inside. He started to dream of orange and white. He started to paint those colours. No longer jagged or rough like it had been that night, but rather soft and warm in their movements. His lines now caressed each other, shared their space. Like they called out for each other, demanded the other be with them.

When he didn’t use colours, he drew features. Eyes, curls, an oversized jacket. They excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He had never wanted to create something so badly, and that was saying a lot.

Sander transferred the photos from his camera to his computer, taking care to tuck them away in a folder that wouldn’t catch his parents or Britt’s attention if they looked. He looked at them every night. Eventually, he caved in and moved one of the clearer photos to his phone so that he could look to it when inspiration needed to strike at school.

Sander was consumed by the man. By his image and his aura. But Sander didn’t worry.

The world didn’t provide beauty only once.

There was no way that Sander would have been provided something so perfect for only a fleeting moment.

After all, Sander was learning to trust his thoughts.

He knew he had been right that night among the trucks under the moonlight.

_He is the one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, its me once again posting a mini fic without reading it over because writer's block is a killer.
> 
> It's a day late, but happy first meeting to sobbe.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Find me:
> 
> tumblr: iwritetropesnottragedies.com
> 
> twitter: @iwritetropes


	2. Skate Park Viewas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sander makes his way to the skatepark by his university for a photography session.
> 
> Just for a photography session.
> 
> Not at all in the hopes he will see a certain someone again.

Sander refused to really think about why he had chosen the skatepark for his latest photo session. His professor had requested a dynamic scene with movement. The skate park was close to school and offered a great place for him to take some photos for reference when it came to his drawing class assignment. 

The location was perfect for his class assignment. That was simply the reason for it. It was not at all that he had heard Noor and Britt discussing the former’s boyfriend, how he was best friend’s with Britt’s ex, how it always annoyed Britt how they spent so much time at the skatepark while they had been dating. How according to Noor that hadn’t changed.

No. Sander simply went to the park because he needed references for his art class. 

So what if Sander had taken a bit of extra time with his outfit? Choosing out his jeans and black leather jacket to appear mysterious and brooding to anyone who might look his way. It was what he was comfortable in, and no one would question his outfit, but it also provided a sense of comfort for Sander. He was nervous about going to the skatepark and what, or who, he might find there. His dark bulky clothes, and the hoodie beneath it, provided Sander with a place to hide if he ever felt he might need it. No matter how silly it was, Sander had a little hope that there may be a need for him to be inconspicuous. 

He wasn’t crazy. He knew it was a Monday, and he knew people had lives. Sander wasn’t going there in the hope of seeing the man that he had not been able to stop thinking of since the night at the garbage trucks. 

Robbe, Sander’s mind supplied. Noor had mentioned it in passing, and Sander had it committed to memory before he had ever really thought about. That night had been haunting his dreams. The gentle kind of haunting, an ache demanding reaction, a memory fading slowly but leaving the sweetest feeling behind. Sander returned to the pictures he had taken often, even in the short week it had been since that night. But Sander had always been big on theatrics, and he was sure that that brief meeting on that Saturday past had marked a turning point for Sander. Before Robbe, and now after. 

Regardless of Sander’s feelings of the night that changed him irrevocably, his choice to come by the skate park today was more innocent in its intentions. Sander wanted to get a feel of the area. Locations gave one clues about the people who frequented it. Anyone who walked by Sander’s favourite places, his classroom at the university, a small record shop near his home, and a coffee shop that sells breakfast food almost as good of his mother’s, would be able to glean something of his interests and the things he cared about. Could Sander be faulted for looking at this skatepark with eyes that were interested in its intricacies? 

The skate park was rough in its edges, concrete and splashes of painted colour colliding with small patches of greenery. It was conflicted, and the people who frequented it were complicated in a similar way. 

Sander took his camera into his hands, fiddling with its settings and testing it out with varying shots before he truly got into the hang of taking the photos. He captured flips and skills completed by skaters, he captured conversations, he captured scenery, and he got a feel for the area. The people who came to the skate park were friendly. They interacted with each other whether they were friends or not. They were brave. They attempted dangerous skills without fear of the pain that might come from a wrong decision. They were intriguing in the same way the park was. Multifaceted and hard to decipher. The idea of it made Sander excited. What was Robbe like? Was he in any way like the people at this park, the park itself?

Sander ended his photography session, having spent more of the afternoon than he had planned for taking various shots. He grabbed his duffel bag from under the tree he had settled beneath and opened it to rummage about within it. He pulled his camera from his neck to place gently into his bag before he pulled it over his shoulder. He stood from the grassy floor and began to make his way passed the concrete skate park. 

The wind rustled softly against his neck, and Sander pulled his hoodie tight around his blond hair. He just glanced up from his feet in front of him to catch the hint of burnt orange that had been haunting his dreams. Sander clammed up, taking in the sight before him, the sight of Robbe a second time, heading right Sander’s way. 

Robbe hadn’t noticed him, a habit Sander was starting to resent, as he was clearly caught up in a conversation his group of friends seemed to be having around him. Two of his friends seemed to be deep in conversation. And the topic which Sander was able to hear snippets of as he grew closer, seemed ridiculous at best. Who discussed using a numb hand to masturbate? Sander couldn’t help that the implications of the ridiculous discussion set something warm burning in the pit of his stomach.

Sander was still as interested in Robbe as he had been that first night he saw him. Sander could not look away from Robbe. He looked beautiful. Smiling and looking down at the ground in front of him as he laughed softly at the conversation. Sander watched that soft smile, his curls blowing softly in the breeze and felt surer than ever that his original assessment of the other man. Robbe would change Sander’s life; he just knew it.

Sander was satisfied with this small meeting, with just seeing Robbe a second time as they crossed paths. It was evidence that there was something to Sander’s assertion that they were meant to meet. But just as they reached each other, just as Sander accepted that this was only a brief reprieve from his desire, Robbe looked up.

Robbe looked up, and his eyes met Sander’s. 

This time, they didn’t skip past him. They didn’t leave his own. 

Sander felt his breath come short, as warm eyes took notice of him for the first time. They took notice, and they didn’t look away. Sander was struck by that feeling again; the one that had greeted him in the moonlight of the factory last Saturday night. There was something real there, in the brief contact they had made. He is the one. Sander was not in doubt. 

It was not long until they had passed each other in that skate park. Sander felt a flutter in his stomach as he turned to keep that eye contact and realized that Robbe had done the same, following him with those soft, warm eyes. Something passed between them then. An understanding that didn’t need words. Sander knew Robbe in that one look, and he knew that Robbe understood him in a similar way.

Robbe looked away first.

That was okay. 

Sander understood the significance of a look like that. What it could bring up within a person. Robbe was younger than him, and even Sander was feeling this way for the first time. He couldn’t imagine how it was wreaking havoc on Robbe. Sander could be understanding of that; he could be patient. So, he looked away too and headed home.

He had another encounter to add to his memories. Something to think of when he searched for sleep at night. Robbe had returned his gaze. Robbe had seen him. They had a second meeting. Those facts gave Sander confidence.

And when he went to bed later that night, with orange and white swirling in his mind, Sander was sure of three things.

One: Robbe was the one. 

Two: Robbe saw Sander and was as intrigued as he was in their connection. 

Three: They would meet again.

After all, good things come in threes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So somehow this one-shot became a two shot. Will it go further? Who knows... 
> 
> Find me:
> 
> tumblr: iwritetropesnottragedies.tumblr.com
> 
> twitter: @iwritetropes


End file.
